Chapter Fifteen:

Listening to the movements of war in the North was a soothing balm against the wounds of the loss of Boromir, who had not been a friend when they set out, but who she had come to regard as one by his death. Holly listened as Daervunn described the infighting between the Lieutenants of Angmar, and Laerdan's unfortunate fate.

"His daughter, Narmeleth, petitions Lord Elrond to let her seek out and destroy Mordirith, using the knowledge she gained as Amarthiel. As we left, he sat in council with a number of others to decide her fate." Daervunn explained, as Golodir grumbled in the background. After learning of his imprisonment, Holly could understand why he felt ill-disposed towards the restored elf maiden, but she could see the tactical value of using Amarthiel's knowledge to their advantage, if the restoration of Narmeleth could be trusted.

"Of all the times to ride south," she lamented, and the assembled dunedain laughed with her. "Yet, if we did not, would there be a northern kingdom to return to?"

"Have a hope Thuri!" Halbarad chided, reining back to fall in with them. Aragorn seemed to hover on the edges for a moment, before riding ahead to speak with Theoden and Eomer. "I hear you have been quite busy yourself."

"Just a little trek," she said, waving off his implied question with an ease that made the dunedain laugh. "But I can tell you that I finally went to Imladris to see a wizard."

Daervunn snorted, and she wished it was daylight because she was sure Halbarad was rolling his eyes as he said: "Yes, I've heard about that too. Though did you have to tell him about your oaths, because I got a right telling off about that."

"He can be as unhappy about it as he likes," Holly said with an airiness she didn't quite feel. "So long as he's alive to be crowned at the end of things, that's all that matters." A thought occurred to her, and she scowled. "By the way, were you ever planning on telling me that I was riding out to our chieftain?"

"I honestly did not know how to tell you," Halbarad said after a long moment of silence. "You stormed into Esteldin, barking about how 'Strider' wouldn't accept your passcodes, and I realized that the two of you had never actually met. The last time he'd been in Imladris, you were in Tinnudir, and it always seemed to happen like that. Besides, sending you in pursuit of him brought you to Imladris, and from the sound of it, you've done well for yourself."

"Done well for myself?" she murmured, eyes nearly crossing as she stared at Nor's neck before her. "I have done very little of renown, besides ridden with the Fellowship. In fact, I do not think my presence here has made a whit of difference, compared to what any of you might have managed."

"From what our chieftain tells me, your presence allowed Boromir of Gondor to survive the ambush at Parth Galen," Halbarad's voice was gentle, and Holly hated him for that gentleness. It reminded her too much of past arguments about loss and death.

"Boromir of Gondor lies in the shadow of the Deeping Wall because I was not fast enough to save him," Holly managed to get out between her gritted teeth. "Nor was I strong enough to heal him."

No longer wishing to talk, she urged Nor on, leaving the comforting familiarity of the dunedain for Eomer's quiet silence. Thankfully, he did not ask anything of her, and she rode in silence until they came once more unto the Hornburg.

Holly joined the dunedain in the room given to them, on a pallet between Daervunn and Saeradan, and slept deeply for the first time in what felt like forever. When she woke, Kreacher had set out clean clothes for her, a duplicate set of the grey raiment that the others wore, and she dressed in them gladly before going out to the hall and joining her brethren in the midday meal.

She saw Merry sitting at the king's side, and Legolas and Gimli together at the king's table, but Holly was comfortable sitting among the dunedain and the sons of Elrond, though she realized a familiar face was missing.

As she slipped food to Kreacher, who had chosen to shelter under her cloak rather than go through the tedious explanations that his presence would provoke, Holly leaned over to ask Daervunn: "Where are they?"

He looked at her, face a picture of confusion, but murmured: "Our chieftain has secluded himself in the highest chamber, with Halbarad."

Holly felt a wave of foreboding crash over her and the hall in front of her was replaced by a wash of white, then a jumble of images and sounds. She was in a dark place, with lights surrounding her, then she was riding with an army by the sounds of spears and jangling tack surrounding her. There was a battle and she was in the middle, and someone was screaming. Loss ripped at her soul, stealing her breath in a way nothing but new grief had ever managed. Arwen was dying, Arwen was holding a child. A black gate was crumbling, a dark tower was rising. A fertile land stretched out before her, fields were burning. A white throne, a black throne, fire and ash choked her. A spring breeze caressed her face playfully as her hands were filled with rich soil.

As if over a great distance, she heard Irmo's voice calling out to her. "Harry Potter, heed my brother's words!"

She looked then upon a white tree that was simultaneously blossoming and burning as Irmo's voice mingled with Námo's.

"The moment comes, Secret, what do you say,

Ride with the army in light of day?

Your King takes the path appointed for him,

Under the mountains through halls dark and grim.

In halls dark and grim, lest ye walk forth with me,

Bind tight your gifts 'til you come to the Sea!"

Her vision cleared as quickly as it had been overtaken by the vision, and her throat felt raw as if she'd been screaming. Hands were gently helping her up, drawing her hood over her face as she wobbled her way blindly towards the door, leaning heavily on the arm offered to her.

Out in the sunlight, leaning against the stone, Holly managed to look up and realize that the sons of Elrond had helped her out, Elladan stooping worriedly to peer into her face. "Are you well Thuri? What have you seen?"

"How did you know that I had Seen?" Holly asked, leaning against the stone and swallowing until the roughness in her throat went away. "Did I speak?" She had thought the words of the Valar were for her alone.

The brothers exchanged glances before looking down shaking their heads. "We have seen our adar, and naneth nanethenin in the past, and saw the signs in you." Elrohir said with a shrug. "You did not prophesy, though Daervunn and Kreacher know that something has transpired."

"Where is Kreacher?" She had forgotten about the house elf in the aftermath of her vision, and looked around for him, but Elladan pressed her gently down onto a barrel.

"Daervunn has him, do not fret," the elf soothed, brushing his fingers across her forehead, as if checking for a fever. "If it is not too personal, what did you see?"

"Much," she admitted, thinking of the images she'd seen, "and yet very little. But what I understand is that there are two paths before me, though I know not what they are."

Slowly, she related the confusing array of images, trying to relate the visions of their sister's death as gently as possible, putting them in a semblance of order as she related them, trying to place each path side by side. When she finished with the message from Námo, the brothers traded a glance.

"To See is rare, even for one gifted as adar and naneth nanethenin are, and often comes at moments of great significance," Elladan said, looking thoughtful. "We suspect our father had seen before the Grey Company rode forth, given that we were bid to carry a message to Estel. The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead. I suspect those are your 'halls dark and grim' in my lord Námo's message to you."

"Estel must have made his decision, or nearly," Elrohir remarked, sitting on a crate next to Holly and stretching his long legs out with a sigh. "I do not believe that one path necessarily leads to the doom of Arda, but that which you saw is reflective of all we stand to lose. But you yourself have a choice to make, given your unique circumstances."

"Boromir spoke briefly to me of the Men of the Mountains, the oathbreakers, when Gandalf conveyed the words of Lady Galadriel to him," Holly thought for a moment before carefully reciting the words the wizard had shared.

"Where now are the Dúnedain, Elessar, Elessar?

Why do thy kinsfolk wander afar?

Near is the hour when the Lost should come forth,

And the Grey Company ride from the North.

But dark is the path appointed for thee:

The Dead watch the road that leads to the Sea."

The twins shared another glance, and Holly wondered if they weren't like Fred and George, who seemed capable of having an entire conversation in the silence of a single glance.

"Aragorn will take the Paths of the Dead, and the Grey Company will ride with him," Elladan said decisively. "But should you walk that same path with him, or should you ride with the Rohirrim when Theoden's army rides for Gondor?"

"Why would I not follow my lord?" she protested, scowling at them. "I have sworn myself to him, much as his kinsmen have, and I will not be forsworn!"

"Thuri, my lord Námo would not send a message so clearly outlining two options if he did not foresee the need of them," Elladan counseled, resting his hand on her shoulder. "If Aragorn is to risk the haste afforded by the Paths of the Dead, I suspect he will attempt to hold the Men of the Mountains to their oaths."

Holly felt her blood run cold. Slowly, quietly, mindful of the Rohirrim that moved through the inner bailey of the Hornburg, she told the twins of her experience in the healing halls of the Rohirrim and the twilight state she had slipped into as she gently ushered the dying into Mandos, ending with: "Those that knew the legends, before I came to Arda, they called me the Master of Death. If I follow my lord, will I put his attempt to call forth the Men of the Mountains in jeopardy?"

"Your vision gave you two alternatives, if you walked the Paths of the Dead," Elrohir pointed out, bumping his shoulder against hers comfortingly. "You could bind your gifts close, if such a thing is possible, or you could enter that twilight state once more, if that is what my lord meant by 'walk forth with me'."

"Or you could ride with the Rohirrim," his brother said, squeezing her shoulder and gesturing to the preparations around them. "There is no shame in doing so, and Estel would understand."

"I cannot risk Kreacher by binding myself closely," Holly murmured, feeling the bond between them strengthen after being stretched thin by distance. "He would survive, but would inevitably suffer from my having to cut myself off from our already limited connection to magic."

She did not voice her fear of going too deep into the twilight between life and death and what that might mean for her and Kreacher. Part of her thought she would ride with the Rohirrim and take the safer road, but in her gut, Holly knew that she would follow Aragorn wherever he went, risking everything to not only fulfill her oaths to him, but to see him seated upon the throne in Gondor.

"I will need your assistance," she said, looking down at her hands. "For I will not ride with Theoden King while my lord walks the Paths of the Dead."

The sons of Elrond managed to let word pass amongst the Grey Company without alerting the Rohirrim, and none of the dunedain were surprised when Aragorn appeared and announced that they would not be travelling with the army. Daervunn had been told of her vision, but none of the others, though Holly suspected Halbarad knew after she saw him speaking with Daervunn as she sat with the others and listened to the tale of Aragorn's recent struggle with the palentir as related by Halbarad as they waited with the horses on the grass outside the Hornburg.

At last, Aragorn emerged, Gimli and Legolas with him, and they mounted up in a rustle of leather and a jingle of metal. Halbarad blew a great blast on the horn he carried, and Holly urged Nor on. As was his right, Aragorn led the company, with Elladan and Elrohir on his left and Halbarad to his right, and behind them were Daervunn, Calenglad, Legolas and Gimli, and, to Holly's surprise, she herself was offered a place near the head of the column with them.

Kreacher's thin arms were wrapped around her waist, the straps of Nor's saddle carefully adjusted to hold him in place should she have to dismount and leave him. She had taken him aside and spoken of their path, and what it meant for them, and the house elf had glared at her for suggesting he stay behind and ride with the Rohirrim, or ride with one of the other dunedain. He told her, a deep scowl on his face and spindly arms crossed over his chest, that he was staying with his mistress even if he had to run alongside the horses. Laughing, she took him to Nor's side and started figuring out an arrangement for the straps that would hold him securely in place if things got rough. They had travelled together before, yet she'd been careful not to carry Kreacher into battle where he could not defend himself amongst beings two to three times his size. He was certainly capable of wielding a knife or a sling, and she suspected he had a dagger tucked under his cut down tunic, which was almost certainly belted by his sling, but during a pitched battle, particularly one on horseback, he was vulnerable without his magic to assist him.

They rode hard, pausing briefly at Edoras, abandoned as it was, and pressing on to Dunharrow, where they found the Lady Eowyn and her people amongst the beginning of the muster. She bid Aragorn to dine with her, and Holly found herself making camp with the other members of the Grey Company, less the sons of Elrond, Legolas, and Gimli, who had also accepted Eowyn's invitation to supper.

Sitting around their fire, the tent she would share with Kreacher, Calenglad, Halbarad, and Daervunn at her back, Holly focused on the flames and fiddled with her dampeners, checking to make sure they were secure around her wrists and neck. Ever since they had begun the winding path up to Dunharrow, she had started to feel the presence of the dead in a way she had never felt before. The only thing she could think to compare it to was Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party during her second year, crossed with finding herself beset by Dementors. There was a chill to the air that made everyone, man and beast, uneasy, and she felt it tugging at her, settling in her bones like cold, clammy hands resting against bare skin.

The feeling persisted through the night, disturbing her rest. Trying not to wake the others, she rose and walked through the silent camp, startled to find that she was not the only one awake at such odd hours.

"My lady?" Eowyn startled as she turned towards Holly, and it was easy to see the tracks of tears on her cheeks in the flickering torchlight. They were on the outskirts of camp, near the road leading into the mountains, yet inside the sentry's perimeter. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to intrude."

"You ride with them then," the other woman said bitterly, passing her hand roughly across her cheek as if it would erase the signs of her tears. "Into the mountains, never to be seen again. How is it that you might go, and I might not?"

Surprised by the bitterness in Eowyn's voice, Holly took a moment to wrap her head around what the woman hadn't said. "Lady Eowyn, before you were born, I swore fealty to my lord Aragorn, and I follow him willingly, not just as my oath compels me. It has very little to do with my gender and everything to do with the fact that my duty lies with my king, as does yours. Your people are sending their king and his heir off to a war they may not return from, and in their absence, they will look to you for direction."

"You say nothing others have not already said," Eowyn stared out into the darkness, her face set as stone.

"It is no shame to guard your people, no slight upon your character to not ride with the army. While the ride of the Rohirrim in Gondor might one day become legend, it does not negate the valour of those who kept Rohan for the army to return to. The wealth of any kingdom is its people, and to safeguard them is no less noble a task."

"I am of the House of Eorl, I fear neither pain nor death!" Eowyn declared, turning on Holly, eyes flashing, face truly alive for the first time in Holly's memory of the reserved woman. "And yet it is constantly asked of me that I remain behind, until all chance and hope of renown and great deeds is past."

"There are no great deeds in battle, my lady!" Holly snapped, for a moment seeing familiar faces in Eowyn's, seeing bodies on the floor of the Great Hall. "There is survival! And death! And Valar help me, but there is no amount of skill that can keep you from death. Think of your uncle, and your brother, and their grief should you fall on the field, far from home. Think of your people, who might be beset by other threats, and who might fall without your guidance."

"He doesn't love you," Eowyn spat, and her face immediately changed as the words lingered between them, regret suffusing every line. "I, I am sorry. I do not know what came over me."

"I hurt you, and you sought to hurt me in return," Holly said, closing her eyes. She felt as if she had known that she cared more for Aragorn than she should, but had refused to name it until Eowyn had. It was true, and so were the other woman's words. "But it is true. He does not love me. His love waits anxiously in the West for word of our success in throwing down the Enemy. Should we succeed, they will marry, and the bards will sing of their love, for it is a love out of tales indeed. And you and I will watch, and linger, and learn to accept it or let it drive us mad. Even were he not king, were he just a man, my lord would love the Evening Star, and she loves him in return."

A flicker of a vision crossed her closed eyes. Startled, she opened them, and for a moment, Eowyn was clad in armor, a bloody sword gripped in her hand and fire in her eyes. Holly sighed as a certainty swept over her, and looked up at Eowyn once more. "I tell you this, Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan, you will come to the field of battle that awaits us all. But do not throw your life away carelessly! There is one who waits for you, though he does not know it yet. Live for him, if you cannot live for yourself."

Reaching into her belt pouch, she rummaged around until she found what she was looking for, an old piece of Black family jewelry that Kreacher told her had been torn from Andromeda's neck when she fled. She had carried it closer than most of the other heirloom pieces because it had been good for setting magic into, but it reminded her of Andy and Teddy. Now though, she felt it was time for it to pass to a new owner.

Carefully, she wove the magic into the setting, anchoring it into the flawless blue topaz, making sure it would do exactly what she wanted it to do, but no more. "I can offer you no more words, but instead give you this. It will not let you pass unseen, nor will you be unnoticed, but it will dissuade others from asking questions about your presence when it is worn. Know this though- should you be injured, it will cease to work, and I would have to restore the magic to it for it to function again."

As she handed the pendent over to Eowyn, pressing it into her hand, Holly hoped she had not doomed the other woman. While her vision had shown Eowyn on a battlefield, and then with a tall man who had a resemblance to Boromir, Holly knew more than most that the future was hardly certain, and even less certain to happen the way she interpreted it. But as she walked away, back to the tent she shared with Halbarad, Daervunn, and Calenglad, Holly hoped it was enough to keep the other woman from doing something beyond stupid.

They rode out as dawn crept over the horizon, and Eowyn met them, clad as the Riders were, much as Holly had seen in her vision. She offered a cup to Aragorn in farewell, and he took it. From her place in the second row of riders, Holly heard her ask something quietly of him, and heard the quiet rumble of Aragorn's voice in response. Eowyn turned away, and Aragorn sprang up into the saddle and started the company off. She wondered what expression he bore, because from the look on Eowyn's face, the woman had pleaded to ride with them once more and had been denied.

Holly wished she could say something to make the situation more bearable for the woman, but she had spent too many sleepless nights trying to imagine what she could have said to Colin, to Remus and Tonks, to any of the students that had been laid out on the floor of the Great Hall, if it had been possible to lay them out at all.

For one who wishes to go to war, there is nothing that will stop them, she thought as she rode towards a line of stones before them, Kreacher a solid comfort behind her. The chill in her bones was getting worse, and she tightened her grip upon the reins. Elladan and Elrohir had dropped back to ride on either side of her, watchful without being overbearing, and she appreciated their care. Passing under the trees made it worse, far more so than the oppressive watchfulness of Fangorn.

She started to see figures moving between the trees, lights where there ought to be none. Holly thought on Námo's warning and wondered if it was madness that would set upon her, or if her presence would interfere with Aragorn's mission, or what the exact nature of the danger that caused him to caution her against walking this path without taking precautions.

At last they drew near a great stone, like a warning, and even Aragorn's horse balked at going forward. Holly dismounted with the others, and as she soothed Nor's nervous sidestepping and checked that Kreacher was secure, she carefully undid her dampeners. She hadn't been wearing them when she had visited the dying at the Hornburg, though she'd worn them on approach to and as they were leaving Orthanc, but she'd placed them when she heard about what awaited them in Dunharrow.

Now though, knowing she needed to walk forth, fully cloaked in her role as the holder of the Hallows, Holly tucked her dampeners into her belt pouch, closed her eyes, and simply breathed. Reaching deep into herself, she allowed herself to fall into the same, vague twilight, the inbetween space, though this time, Námo was absent. When she opened her eyes, refusing to look to either side where the sons of Elrond stood, Holly found her surroundings dulled, the vibrant light of the souls of the dunedain, her brothers, the only light she could see.

Stepping forward, she led Nor around the forbidding stone, joining the others on the far side and found her attention captured by a door in the dark cliff face. It practically glowed in her sight, strange symbols hewn into the stone, and a pair of phantasmic guards stood on either side, still and silent, even to her eyes. Around her, she could see the souls of her brothers, the souls of their horses...all of them quailed in the face of the eerie aura being given off by the doorway and its guards.

"This is an evil door," she heard Halbarad say, as if from far away, but he was only a few paces from her, talking with Aragorn, "and my death lies beyond it. I will dare to pass it nonetheless; but no horse will enter."

She wanted to call out to him, to try and ask what he had seen, but she found herself unable to speak, at least not to the living. The guards at the door finally moved, and she could hear them laughing at her.

"The Northman is right," one said, and she saw him smile. "He will find his death soon. There is an air about him that reeks of it."

"You will not claim him," she hissed, tightening her hand on the reins in her grasp. "You will not claim any of my brothers."

"We will not have to," his companion said with a gravelly bark of laughter. "These are our paths and our mountain, and we will keep them."

"You will not claim him," she hissed, but they only laughed more, and Aragorn started moving, torch held aloft, though she could not see it but for his raised arm. As she crossed the threshold, the guards shifted uneasily, and she heard murmurs of 'witch', but they let her pass. There was a strong aversion ward, set by habit not intention she thought, on the lintel above her, but it could not touch her in that state, though Nor shuffled uneasily as she led him through.

In the mountain, she suspected that all was dark around her companions, but to her, the interior blazed with light. Doors lined the road they took, houses and shops she suspected, and the Dead gathered in and around them to watch the Grey Company pass. She heard their whispers, felt their anger, and though she did not chance a glance behind, knowing Elladan was at the rear with another torch, though Elrohir was just behind her, should she falter, and not wishing to risk being blinded by the light of the souls of the firstborn.

They pressed on, past doorways and side streets, the host of the dead following them as they went, until it seemed as if a mighty host pursued them. At last, they came out into what Holly knew must have once been a great plaza, and she could still see the shopkeepers and their stalls, peering curiously, then with anger, at the Grey Company as they stopped at Aragorn's cue.

He knelt, she could see that much, but her vision was preoccupied by the tall Rohirrim standing next to her king, a ghostly figure, still clad in shining mail and gems to her sight.

"Go back!" he cried to Aragorn, gesturing towards the road they had come from. "Leave this accursed place if the Dead will let you!"

"We cannot go back," Holly said, and his head snapped over to look at her within the crowd. "We must go forth."

"Who are you that speaks with the Dead?" the Rohirrim asked, hand tightening on his ghostly sword.

"I am Thuri who walks with the dunedain," she said, watching the other ghosts in hearing distance startle and whisper to their fellows. "I follow my lord as he seeks to defeat the Enemy."

"Your lord has led you to your death," the man said mournfully. "The dead do not trouble the living to pass, as I found."

"You are a man of Rohan," Holly said, knowing that Aragorn and some of the others were speaking, but their words were indistinct to her ears, filled with the whispers of the dead. "Why do you linger on these shores instead of passing to the halls of Mandos as you ought to?"

The ghost's face tightened in fury. "I was denied it by my death in these accursed halls! Isildur's wrath lies upon me as well! In life I was a prince of Rohan, was it not enough to forbid me burial beside my father?"

Suddenly, Aragorn's voice rang out loudly and clearly through the plaza. "Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the Stone of Erech!"

Whispers broke out among the gathered crowds. "Who is this man to give us orders?" one ghostly figure cried, his sword in his hand as he raised it above his head. "We do not suffer the living to pass!"

"He is Aragorn Elessar, heir of both Anarion and Isildur!" Holly shouted back as Nor shifted uneasily underneath her. "He goes to save his people from the very same Enemy you swore yourselves to aid his forefathers in defeating! Now is the time, Men of the Mountains, in which you might fulfill your oaths! For if he succeeds, he will release you to death's peace, but if he should fail for lack of your aid, there will be none that come after who can release you!"

"Who are you to speak for the living to the dead?" someone cried out from the crowd, and others took up the cry.

"I am Harry and Bronach,Thuri and Holly!" she proclaimed. "I am the Master of Death as named by my people, a witch, a message rider, and sworn to my lord and my king! I can neither compel you nor can I free you, only you may do the former, and my lord might do the latter, should you fight for him now in these dark hours! Men of the Mountains, will you leave your halls and fulfill the oaths you have sworn?"

There was a great ripple in the crowds as they parted to let a man come forward, one who Holly suspected was their chieftain or king, if the finery of his robes was any indication. "The Men of the Mountains will come unto Erech," he said as the crowds fell silent. "We will hear the words of this Aragorn Elessar, and allow he and his to pass this once. Go now, and ride to Erech before the ending of the day!"

A great gust of wind swept through the halls, and Holly suspected the torches were doused. But the Grey Company moved forward once more, pressing through the halls as the host of the dead marched behind them, their banners raising. Men, women, there was no distinction within the ranks, and Holly even saw a few children, likely those who had died before reaching adulthood. All bore weapons that could, though she suspected the fear they inspired was enough of a weapon.

Coming out into open air shocked her, as the sound of running water filled her ears, for a moment drowning out the sound of the army marching behind the company, and she blindly mounted up, patting Nor's neck absently and checking to make sure Kreacher was still secure on the saddle. The house elf was trembling, but he squeezed her hand in return, seeming to understand that she could not hear him if he spoke.

Like bats from hell, the Grey Company rode down the mountains into a vale, and once they had descended into the vale proper, Aragorn must have given orders for speed, for Nor lept forward under her and Holly urged him on, using the light of the souls before her to gauge if she was lagging or riding too close. As if from a great distance, she heard bells ringing, but she rode forth, knowing the army of the Dead was behind them, and would do little good should they fail to reach Erech by midnight.

When Nor was beginning to stumble from weariness, Holly saw the Stone in the distance, a great thing, swathed in what she could only suspect was the magic of the broken oath. The magic pulsed an angry red, tendrils of magic wrapping around the stone's surface and vanishing into the earth. She had seen several spell anchors over the years, both in her independent studies and as an Auror, but this was the clearest she'd ever been able to visualize the magic.

A great horn sounded, and as she watched, the Men of the Mountains lifted horns to their lips and returned the blast. Aragorn's voice sounded: "Oathbreakers, why have ye come?"

The king stepped forward, clad now for war, a strong spear in his hand. "To fulfill our oath and have peace."

Aragorn's voice called out again, and Holly could see the outline of his soul before the Stone of Erech, the angry red ebb of the magic easing slightly as he spoke: "The hour is come at last. Now I go to Pelargir upon Anduin, and ye shall come after me. And when this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hold this oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace and depart for ever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor."

There was a sound of fabric unfurling, and then Holly beheld the banner that she had noticed Halbarad bearing, and saw upon it a white tree, capped by seven stars, and a crown. The Livery of Elendil, she thought, recognizing it from sketches and other recovered materials from the ruins of Arnor. "See the banner which has not flown in nearly a thousand years or more! See you the Blade that Was Broken, forged anew! Men of the Mountains, do you have any doubt that this man is Isildur's heir?"

Slowly, ponderously, the king turned to her. "We will come."

Movement in the crowd caught her eye, and she saw the prince of Rohan stepping forth. "Master of Death, will fulfillment of their oath free me?"

"I can make no promises, but it ought to," she answered honestly. "But should you not wish to follow the Heir of Isildur's will over the will of Rohan, I tell you this: Theoden King will ride from Dunharrow to the aid of Gondor. But for my king being needed at Pelargir, he would have ridden with the host of the Rohirrim."

Face brightening, the prince of Rohan bowed politely to her. "That is fair news indeed!" he cried. "I will joyfully ride with this host, knowing that my kinsmen ride to the same end."